Bad Boy Better Run (Clato)

Chapter Eight: Nightmares

~*~*~*~*~

Yo! I have just discovered that bad boys make me extremely nervous yet they bring out my exceptionally mean, sassy side. I like it. *insert proud smirk* Seriously though, he helps me write my story without actually knowing it. I feel so evil. In case you have no idea what I'm talking about, let me explain. There's this guy who I've met and yes, he would be classified as the typical bad boy. And a player, too. However, he's nice but mean to me. If that makes sense. And he doesn't know it, but he's totally helping me write Bad Boy Better Run. As far as looks go, he actually can pull off the whole "bad boy" look. It's crazy.

SO!

Without further ado,

I present to you...

Chapter eight of: Bad Boy Better Run!

P.S, I made a new cover for Bloody and Broken. Check it out if you want.

~*~*~*~*~

I looked down at my hands and saw blood covering them, dripping off of them. It was disgusting, and the smell of it intoxicated me, filling up my nose. Blood, blood, blood. Blood everywhere. Not only that, but there was an excruciating pain coming from my side. I looked down blood was dripping down my side. My clothing was tattered and it seemed as if someone had stabbed me in the side.

Despite my horrible conditions, I felt compelled, willed to keep running. I didn't want to stop. I couldn't. But why? What was I running from? Or what was I running to? I took a deep breath and forced myself into a little jog. Nothing was clear - there were trees and fog everywhere, and it gave off an exceptionally eerie feeling as if something could jump out at me any minute.

A chill ran up my spine and the hairs on the back of my neck seemed to stick up. Something about this wasn't right, it wasn't safe.

And then it happened.

I was tackled to the ground and a cold, hard metal was thrust against my throat. Not hard enough to break skin, thankfully. I looked up, wide-eyed in fear and saw that it was none other than Cato pinning me to the ground with the sword at my throat. He had a malicious glint in his eyes, one that I didn't really know, but knew what it meant. He was obviously angry and out for blood.

Standing around him and cheering him on, were Marvel, Glimmer, and surprisingly, the twerps from District Twelve. They were all snickering and shouting things like, "Go on, Cato! Do it already!" and "End her!"

Fear was coursing through my veins and I tried to get out from underneath the brute. He merely laughed at my weak attempts. "Aww come on, Clove, don't look so scared. It won't be that bad."

"Let me go!" I screeched, still squirming.

He pressed his sword harder against my throat and I stopped moving. "Move again and that'll be it. Good girl, don't move."

I'm too young to die! I thought, desperately trying to come up with a plan to get myself out of this horrible situation.

Cato smirked at me. "Actually, I lied. It'll be pretty horrible."

And with that he moved his sword and began cutting my arms, drawing blood. Lots and lots of blood. It was horrible, and the smell was pungent; it made me sick to my stomach, and I almost threw up. I bit my lip - refusing to scream, I couldn't scream, that would be weak.

Suddenly, the scene changed, and I was no longer hurt or bleeding, but everything was hazy, as if I had extremely bad eye vision but didn't have glasses or contacts to fix it. A blonde blur, who I assumed was Cato, was waving his hand in front of my face. "Clove!" he called.